


Undercover

by Beehsknees



Category: L.A. Noire
Genre: Alcohol, Blood, Hand Jobs, Homophobic Slurs, M/M, NSFW, Not Too Era Accurate, Oral Sex, Slight Violence, Slow Burn, Undercover As Prostitute, homphobia, racist slur
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-28
Updated: 2018-03-12
Packaged: 2019-03-25 07:06:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 13,543
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13829031
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Beehsknees/pseuds/Beehsknees
Summary: “I’m not being a damn prostitute, Roy.”“What? You afraid someone will want to have sex with you, Phelps? Because trust me, no one wants that.”





	1. The Case

**Author's Note:**

> If there are any mistakes, let me know. I know nothing about the 40's, male prostitution or LA/America.

“I’m not being a damn prostitute, Roy.” Cole whispered the offending words as everybody else left the room. All of this had started because they’d been given an undercover case. At first Phelps was excited for it, it was rare for them to be able to go undercover. His mind raced with different ideas – maybe they’d pretend to be foreign spies, or have to be reds at a commie party. But no. The actual case was horrifying and made Phelps shudder at the idea.

“What? You afraid someone will want to have sex with you, Phelps? Because trust me, no one wants that.” Roy smirked that shit eating smirk of his. With cigarette in one hand, he thumbed through the case file with a hum. There had been a string of drug deaths surrounding the red-light area and for the LAPD to catch everyone involved, it needed many nights of stake outs and undercover work. Of course, this meant the two partners had to go undercover as either prostitutes or pimps. 

“Can’t we both be p-...” Cole couldn’t bring himself to even say the word pimp. Roy was finding this entire situation hilarious. The only reason Roy accepted this case was because he knew it would rustle Cole’s attitude. 

“Of course not. That would just be weird. Pimps don’t work together. There’s only going to be one pimp, and I sure as ain’t pretending to be a damn hooker.” Cole let out a sigh as he took the case from Roy, pulling out the two ID’s that had been attached to the folder. They could argue it later, Cole decided. 

“William Fenton. That’s yours, Roy.” He slid Roy’s new name over and glanced at his own.

“John Renard.” Taking a drag from his cigarette, Roy snickered.

“Guess you’re a Frenchie. C’mon Renard,” he teased, “We need to check out the place we’re staying in. And go shopping, ain’t no way a prostitute wears clothes like yours.” As Cole stood he gave a quizzical look.

“What’s wrong with my clothes?” They left the room, Roy’s cigarette smoke leaving a haze behind him. 

“What’s right with them? You look like a damn geography teacher.” Cole let out a sigh through his nose. 

“Like your suit is any better Roy.” Roy turned to his partner with a smirk.

“Oh? Watch it Phelps. I’m your pimp now, I have complete control over you.” He teased Phelps, seeing how far he could push him and get a reaction out of him. Cole smartly decided not to comment back. 

“I’ll drive.” Roy slipped into the driver’s seat and flicked the cigarette end out of the car. Phelps pressed his lips together, but didn’t mention anything about the littering he just saw. Placing the case folder on his lap, Cole resting his hands atop it.

“Where are we going again?” 

“Clothes, like I mentioned before. There are some places downtown that do what we’re looking for.” Cole arched a curious brow.

“And what are we looking for Roy?” He just hoped Roy wouldn’t be putting him in some ridiculous get up just to embarrass him. He wouldn’t put it past him though. Roy made a sharp left as they pulled up beside their destination. 

“You’ll see.”

____

 

After an hour of buying a bunch of new clothes, they returned to their new ‘home’. It was a run-down apartment near Santa Monica Boulevard, the streets known for high areas of prostitution. Opening the door, Cole took a quick glance around and placed the bags next to the sofa. It wasn’t the worst place the LAPD could have picked. Though it was cramped, the furniture was broken and it looked like it had been uninhabited for years. As soon as Roy waltzed in, the complaining began.

“Fucking Christ, this place is a dump. Couldn’t they have chosen anything nicer?” He threw his bags next to Cole’s and went to investigate the other rooms. A loud complain was heard from the bedroom and Cole followed him, soon understanding the attitude. One bed. 

“I’m not sharing with you Phelps. You can sleep on the couch.” Cole, obviously irritated, crossed his arms against his chest.

“As much as I’d rather be shot than sleep with you, the couch is obviously broken. There’s no way it’ll support me. We can just…sleep top and tails or something. It’s not the end of the world.” Roy rolled his eyes and walked past his partner, bumping his shoulder.

“Whatever. But don’t be getting any fag ideas.” He replied, letting his shoulder linger for a moment longer than needed. Phelps stepped away when it became uncomfortable, and Roy simply smirked. Although it seemed like nothing, Roy knew that anything like that made Cole feel unbelievably uneasy. Earle himself didn’t give a shit – sure he wasn’t a fag or anything himself, working Vice made you get used to it.  
Walking back to the bags strewn about the floor, Roy grabbed his and made a beeline towards the bathroom.

“Get dressed. Then we can scope out the area.” Cole grabbed his stuff an arched an amused brow.

“What’s that I hear? Roy Earle actually interested in working?” Roy raised his voice through the bathroom door.

“Ha-ha, John. Very funny.” He figured they should get in character now to make the eventual blending in easier. He didn’t want to accidentally fuck up and ruin the case. He was never good with names.

___

 

Roy had taken his time in the bathroom – shaving, taking a shower and then getting dressed. At that point Cole had given up waiting for his turn and used the kitchen sink to wash his face then got dressed in the bathroom with the door closed. As Roy came out with way too much after shave on, he knocked on the bedroom door.

“You nearly ready to go?” Roy could hear the disappointment of Cole as he looked over himself in the outfit he wore. Shyly, Cole opened the door to a smirking Roy.

“Don’t. Say. Anything.” Although male prostitutes weren’t exactly promiscuous, the clothing he wore was certainly…tight in some areas. He wore a light blue button up with the sleeves rolled up, tight slacks and suspenders. Although nothing screamed ‘sexual’ about his outfit, it was already so tight he worried it would rip if he moved. Barging past Roy, he grabbed a small jacket that he was determined to wear, if not for decency at least to keep himself warm. As he walked past, Roy couldn’t help but let his eyes wander down. It was no secret Cole had a great ass, and these pants truly showed that off. He was even tempted to say something to him, get a rile out of him, but decided to leave it for the time being. Well…

“Let’s go. There’s a bar that’s a common hook up spot. We can start there.” He grabbed the keys from Cole’s pocket and, with his free hand, gave a hard slap to Cole’s ass. The man flinched in response and gave Roy a death stare.

“Don’t push me, Earle.” 

“William,” He corrected him. “Or Sir, if that’s more to your liking.” He lit a cigarette as they came out of the apartment and headed to the car. Roy’s suit wasn’t much different to the ones he usually wore – although this one was a little less high quality and had more ‘bling’ on it. He even wore two large gold rings on one hand. Starting the car, they headed for the bar. However as soon as Phelps’s sat down, he began to squirm.

“What’s up with you now? Got ants in your pants?” Roy fired off in an accusatory tone. Cole held his tongue and instead fiddled with his trousers.

“No, it’s… never mind.” Roy, already amused by the situation, took a drag from his cigarette and glanced to his partner. 

“Underwear not high and mighty enough for you, Golden Boy?” A light blush overcame Cole’s cheeks and he stopped squirming.

“They’re just…snug.”


	2. Hiding in Plain Sight

It was around 10:30 once they finally reached the bar. They’d stopped for a bite to eat and Cole was aware all eyes were on him as he walked into the diner they picked. Nonetheless, they were here now. As they exited the car, Roy stopped and pulled Cole close using his collar. Cole, not expecting this sudden closeness, immediately began to protest.

“What are you-?” Roy, his intentions not evil for once, unbuttoned Cole’s shirt down a few times to reveal a hint of a bare chest.

“You look like a narc with it all buttoned up John.” Cole rolled his eyes and smoothed down his shirt, feeling slightly nervous for some reason. He glanced to Roy who gave him a reassuring smile and grabbed him by the elbow, leading them into the bar. 

The bar itself was dark and musty, with inches of smoke lingering in the place. The lack of real lights made it difficult to make your way around. There was a strong smell of alcohol and sweat from the bodies on the floor being together with such close contact. Already they knew this bar was like no other. There were no boundaries, no shame. Roy guided Cole to the bar and they were greeted by a perky girl who barely looked 21. She had bleach blonde hair and spoke in a slight southern drawl.

“Hi boys! Y’all are new here I guess? I haven’t seen you around. What can I get you?” 

“Gin for me and a scotch for John.” Roy said plainly, obviously uninterested in the girl. Cole knew better though. If he’d learned anything from his time working at the LAPD, he knew that bartenders were the eyes and ears of the place. If anybody here knew anything vital to the case, it’d be her. Cole leaned against the bar as she slid them their drinks, attempting to look charming.

“So, what’d you say your name is?” She glanced towards the man speaking and let out a childish giggle.

“Oh, I didn’t. I’m Jaqueline, everybody calls me Jacky. What’s yours mister?” Cole shook her hand gently. 

“I’m John Renard. This is my…partner, William Fenton.” Roy simply nodded at the girl before taking a sip of her drink. 

“Partner, huh? And here I thought I was in luck because a cute man was flirting with me! Oh well. Where are y’all from then? It’s nice to get some fresh faces around these parts.” Cole paused for a moment, wracking his brain for an answer to the dame’s easy question. He was too distracted by the idea of Jacky thinking Roy was his…boyfriend. Sure, at work partner meant something completely different than around here. 

“West Cost. San Francisco. But we travel a lot.” Roy had seen Cole’s struggle and thankfully swooped in to save him. 

“Aw. Cute! I don’t get why’d you move though. It’s a lot more accepting of people like you down there. I mean, just another night there was that fella beaten up just a few blocks from here…” She trailed off, feeling solemn as she thought about what happened. 

“Guess this place has pretty bad luck then too. I heard a lot of rumours about heroin around these parts.” Roy lowered his voice as he spoke to her, hoping he didn’t sound like a cop but rather someone merely interested in the happenings. 

“Oh yeah, it’s been getting super popular lately. Honestly, I don’t get it, but I suppose to some people it’s the ‘magical cure’ for everything.” She pouted her lip. “Not death though. Ain’t nobody escaping that.” She stared at a wall for a second before snapping out of it, her bubbly attitude returning as she excused herself to serve the other patrons. Cole finished his drink and leaned in close to Roy.

“Let’s head over to the dance floor, there might be a better view there.” Roy downed his drink in one gulp and they made their way over to the dark dance floor. It was a miracle they could even fit on it, there were so many people on it already, dancing drunkenly to the music. Cole stood out like a stick in the mud. He wasn’t much of a dancer and this mood certainly didn’t help out. Roy rolled his eyes and grabbed Cole by the wrist, pulling him close and guiding him.

“Jeez, John, you’ll blow our cover if you keep acting like that. Don’t quit your day job to work in the pictures.” Cole arched his brows.

“Well it’s not like this all comes naturally to me. In case you weren’t aware, Will, this isn’t my usual spot to hang out.” Roy retorted, feeling anger rise at his snappy partner.

“Do I look the kind of fag to loiter around here either? You don’t see me complaining.” 

“No?” Cole let a small smirk on his face. “Then what are you doing now?” Roy narrowed his eyes.

“Shut up.” Roy scanned the crowd for any signs of anything suspicious. It was difficult to see due to the lighting, but a lucky light hung in the corner where a few men were loitering with a kid who barely looked twenty. He looked scared, Roy noted, and became even more suspicious when the men slowly began heading towards a back door, pushing the kid along with him.

“Hey, check that over there. Looks like a drug meet gone wrong.” Cole snapped out of his daze as he heard Roy address him. It was kind of difficult to focus what with the loud music and having Roy pressed so tightly against him. He blinked and looked where Roy was gesturing at. Sure enough, the men had pushed the kid through the door and had now closed it behind them. Without hesitating, both men began to make their way to the door without rousing any suspicion. They soon opened the door and looked down the hallway. Roy pulled his gun and gestured for Cole to follow him.

As they navigated the twisted halls they heard shouting coming from the left. Roy peeked around the corner and sure enough saw three men hovering over a young lad who looked to be pleading for his life. 

“On the count of three…” Cole muttered. “One… two…”

“LAPD You’re under arrest!” Roy jumped the gun and ran down the hallway with his gun in hand whilst Cole watched desperately as the three men escaped, leaving the boy shaking on the floor. Usually he would chase them down until they were all caught, but the outfit he wore left no room to carry concealed weapons. Well, no decent ways anyway. Cole’s hand burled into fists as he went to Roy, momentarily ignoring the boy on the floor.

“What were you thinking? They got away now and know of our identities. What the hell are we supposed to do now?” Roy slipped his gun back where it belonged and stepped closer to Cole menacingly. 

“They would have gotten away if we waited for you. I don’t follow your orders.” Roy spat out his words as he stared down the other man. A few beats passed of intense awkwardness before Cole pushed past him and went to the boy in the room, helping him sit down on a crate to calm his nerves.

“Are you alright? Can you tell us who those men were?” The boy fiddled with his sleeve, still breathless from the interaction.

“I-I don’t know their names… Just that they sell heroin here. I bought some from them a while back, and they wanted more money from me but I said I didn’t have any!” Cole nodded and told Roy to take notes. Reluctantly he complied.

“Okay. And do you know anything of the deaths due to heroin overdoses going on?” The boy lightly shook his head but refused to maintain eye contact, staring down at the floor shiftily. Cole raised his voice slightly to appear intimidating. 

“Look, kid. How are we supposed to help if you lie to us? Are you hiding something? We need to know why people are dying and if you’re not going to help us you might end up like them.” The boy sat up straighter and began talking.

“Alright, alright! Jeez… Those men… They like to send a message to people who don’t comply with them…They kill people who don’t pay up. Then they make the scene look like an accidental overdose. Of course, everyone here knows it’s never an overdose…” He began playing with the buttons on his sleeve nervously, knowing that if the cops didn’t intervene when they did he would have become the next victim. 

“Thanks for your time. My partner here will send out a car to take you back to the station so we can get this on tape. You’ve been a real help.” He patted the boy on the shoulder and stood up, making his way back over to Roy. 

“Looks like it’s no simple overdose case we have anymore.” Cole mumbled, already racking his brain in an attempt to fit the pieces of the puzzle together, even though he didn’t have enough information to come up with an explanation. Using the back door, Roy took the boy out and waited until a car had dispatched and picked him up. Cole glanced at the time and ran a hand through his pristine hair. 2:00am. He was beginning to feel the dull pain of a headache coming in but he pushed it away, knowing they had more work to do. Roy came back in with a cigarette in his mouth, looking bored as he always did. 

“Kid’s been taken up to the police station.” Cole simply nodded and sat down on a stool, resting his eyes for a moment. At this point Roy was also tired from all of this and wanted nothing more than to sleep for the night. He knew they had more work to do, but there were always other days. 

“Let’s head back. There’s not much else we can do here tonight. We’ll come back tomorrow and interview the other whores out on the street.” Even though Cole’s eyes were closed, he still had to hold back an eye roll at Roy’s choice of words. Still, he was exhausted and needed some good shut eye. 

“Fine. Let’s go.”


	3. Torment

As they got back, Cole hung up his jacket on the coat stand slipped off his shoes, heading into the bedroom. He flopped on the bed with an exhausted sigh and was already snoozing when Roy cleared his throat loudly. He leaned against the doorframe with a sour expression.

“I ain’t sharing with you, Phelps.” Cole rolled over to face Roy, pissed at him for not letting him sleep.

“Then sleep on the floor for all care.” Cole sighed and pulled the covers over himself, mumbling from underneath them.

“Don’t flatter yourself Roy – I’m not interested in you. I’m married.” Roy took off his hat and tie, striping down to a vest, socks and underwear to sleep in.

“I’m sure if you weren’t married I’d be your type.” He replied half sarcastically, gingerly slipping in to the other half of the bed. 

“Oh yeah. What’s more attractive than a hot-headed slacker with a cigarette addiction?” Cole yawned mid-sentence. Roy shuffled slightly closer as at this point he was hanging off the bed, tugging some of the quilt from Phelps.

“What can I say? I put the hot in hot headed.” He smirked to himself, getting comfortable. “I mean, there’s a reason they call detectives ‘dicks’.” Cole rolled his eyes and switched off the lamp next to the bed. 

“Good night Roy.” 

Cole fell asleep quickly but Roy couldn’t help but stay awake. It was as if his senses were hyper aware all of a sudden. The double bed felt too small, the quilt was too hot. Every now and then he felt Cole brush against him as he turned in his sleep, muttering slightly in his sleep. Mostly nonsense. After a few hours, Roy couldn’t take it. He pushed the covers off of him and went into the kitchen, opening the window and leaning out. The fresh air was a relief from the stuffy room. Lighting a cigarette, he inhaled a deep puff before slowly exhaling. A small radio was situated on the kitchen table – he flicked it on and went through the stations, finally picking one. An old song played, “Guilty” by Al Bowlly. He barely knew the song but listened to it anyway, flicking his cigarette ash out of the window. A voice in the doorway startled him.

“Can’t sleep?” Roy turned to see a dishevelled Cole who had just woken up.

“Nah. Too stuffy in there.” Cole sat down on the table and turned up the radio a fraction. 

“What about you?” Roy asked, flicking the cigarette butt into the vast unknown and leaning against the window pane. 

“Nightmares. Usual stuff.” Cole replied, absentmindedly flicking through the paper that was left open on the table. Roy assumed the nightmares were about the time he served in the military – he didn’t bother probing. 

“You know, this is the first time I’ve seen LAPD’s Golden Boy without perfect hair.” Cole glanced up to Roy and smiled, running a sleepy hand through his locks to tame them. Without the use of hair products, his blonde hair stuck out at all ends, classic bed hair. It was cute, Roy thought, before immediately ending that train of thought. He turned his direction back to outside the window, watching the desolate early mornings of LA slowly begin to work. It was silent for a few moments before Cole spoke again.

“What’s up?” Roy grunted in response, signalling that nothing was wrong. 

“C’mon Roy, I’m a detective. I know when something is wrong. You may dislike me but as your partner it’s in my intent to make sure your well being is alright.” Roy closed his eyes for a moment, inhaling the LA air. 

“Save your fancy words for the broads, Phelps. I’m…fine. Just couldn’t sleep. New place, different bed.” That was partly true. But something felt wrong. There was a knot in the pit of his stomach, warning him of something, but he didn’t know what it was. 

“Want me to beat it out of you?” Cole joked, but Roy turned to him, a malicious glint in his eye. His demeanour had suddenly changed. Roy didn't know what overcame him but something had. 

“Go for it. Hit me.” The serious answer shocked Cole. A grin was upon Roy’s face, one that actually kind of scared Cole as he’d never seen that face before. 

“Don’t be stupid Roy.” Roy moved over to Cole and shoved his shoulder.

“Do it. Hit me. Square in the face. I know you’ve always wanted to Cole, you hate me.” Cole sighed and pushed his chair out, standing up.

“I’m not hitting you. And I don’t hate you.” He turned to leave, but Roy grabbed his wrist with force.

“Don’t bullshit me, Phelps. I can read you like a damn book. I bet you wish I was Bekowsky, don’t you? He just loved you, didn’t he? Oh, I things I know about him. That pretty little Polak shit-" A dull thud was heard and Roy took a few dizzy steps back. Red droplets fell onto his socks and he instinctively reached for his nose. Blood. Cole clenched his fist and gave Roy a glare before heading to the bathroom to run his ice under cold water. Roy grimaced as he began shoving tissues under his nose. 

Cole splashed his face with cold water before wiping it with a towel and looking in the mirror. ‘Why did I hit him?’ He questioned himself, already knowing the answer but being too afraid to admit it. He liked Stefan. They were partners and he missed working with him. He missed the lingering touches, the whispers that ended up in fits of laughter, the celebratory drinks. Not that he was gay or anything, he had a wife. But what Roy had said…was Bekowsky…? No, he couldn’t be. Phelps was a detective, if Bekowsky was hiding something like that from him, he’d know, surely? With a shaky sigh, Cole dried himself off and examined his slightly bruised knuckles. He felt bad for hitting Roy but the man had it coming. He practically begged for it. Cole came out of the bathroom and peeked into the kitchen to see how he was doing but was confronted with a depressing sight.

Roy sat with his head resting on the table, a bloody tissue doing little to catch the excess blood as a nearly empty bottle of whisky sat in his hand. Cole sighed and came into the kitchen. Hearing the footsteps, Roy groaned.

“The fuck you want, Phelps? Gonna hit me again, huh?” 

“Well, you did literally ask for it Roy.” He felt pity for him at this moment. It was no secret that him and Roy didn’t get on, but that doesn’t excuse punching him. Cole grabbed some paper towels and reached over to Roy, lifting his head up with one hand and dabbing his nose with the other. 

“Does it hurt?” Roy snarled.

“Oh jeez, I don’t know. You fuckin’ hit me and made me bleed. Yeah I think it hurts!” The bloodied man took a deep breath and closed his eyes momentarily. “Sorry. It’s my fault.” Cole raised his eyebrows. Was that an apology from the Roy Earle? Damn, if this was any other situation, he would absolutely make a joke of that. But the tone was sombre so he left it.

“It’s fine. I shouldn’t have hit you. I don’t know what came over me.” Roy leaned in to Cole’s gentle touches, focusing solely on both hands on his face. 

“I deserved it. I shouldn’t have said that about the pole-Bekowsky.” He corrected himself. He wasn’t going to admit that he was jealous of how close Cole and Bekowsky were, because he wasn’t. Him and Cole don’t get on, why would he be jealous? But, if he wasn’t upset, why would be such a jerk? Huh, because he always was. Good going Roy. Great job.

“Look, it’s in the past. Forgive and forget, right?” Roy let out a bittersweet laugh. 

“Always have to have the moral high ground, eh Phelps? Don’t you hold any grudges?” Cole noticed his nose had stopped bleeding and removed his hands, putting the bloodied tissues in the bin. Roy felt alone suddenly. 

“Life is short. I don’t have the time or energy to spend hating people when there’s cases to solve.” Roy let out a laugh, resting his chin on his hand. 

“You’re such a narc. I’ve never met anyone that obsessed with his work. I bet your wife’s jealous, huh?” At the mention of Marie, Cole froze. Noticing the sudden change in behaviour, Roy stood up and approached him, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder to get his attention.

“You okay?” Cole turned around to face Roy, his eyes averting him.

“Yeah I’m…we’re having a rough patch right now.” Usually Roy would happily poke fun at or blatantly insult him but this was a touchy subject. He also didn’t want to get punched.

“Hey, you’ll work through it. You’re the Golden Boy, no problem too big for you to solve.” Cole was silent before smiling in a melancholic manner, nodding slightly.

“Yeah…” More silence. Roy didn’t know what over came him, but he pulled Cole into an embrace. He blamed it on the half bottle of whiskey he downed a bit ago, but he knew secretly it was something different. 

Cole couldn’t describe it. Even though his marriage was slowly crumbling, he felt safe in Roy’s arms. Like nothing could do harm to him like this. It was stupid, but he felt like he could spend eternity in this one position. It had to come to an end though. Cole pulled away first sheepishly. 

“I’m uh… going to go back to sleep for a few hours. You should probably rest too.” Roy nodded and they went back to bed in silence. They were at polar opposites in the double bed, like there was an infinite stretch between the two. Cole made the move of shuffling closer towards Roy and he didn’t know what had taken over him, but he too came close and wrapped a protective arm around Cole. Feeling the man’s warmth next to him, Roy soon managed to drift off to a wholesome slumber and, for the first time in years, Cole didn’t have a horrid nightmare.


	4. Quick on the Trigger

Roy awoke to the smell of metal and cooking-no, burning. He jumped out of bed, feeling the pounding from his nose and entered the kitchen to a hilarious sight. Cole was humming as he made (or more accurately, attempted to make) pancakes for breakfast. The pancake was stuck to the pan and burning as he tried to wrestle with the coffee maker. Ignoring his pain in his nose for a second, Roy quickly turned off the stove so they didn’t burn the place down.

“Cole what are you doing?” He placed the spatula he had down and poured a cup of coffee for himself.

“I felt bad about last night so I made us breakfast.” He surveyed the mess he made and grimaced.

“Well…Tried to. Marie’s usually the one that cooks.” Roy smirked and crossed his arms. 

“Yeah, I can tell. Go sit down, I’ll deal with it.” He swatted Cole over the head jokingly and switched the radio on to a good tune – ‘Near You’. He scrapped the burnt leftovers of what once was a pancake and poured in new batter, making a stack of four for the both of them in just 10 minutes. Cole sat at the kitchen table tapping his foot to the song, watching Roy curiously. 

“I didn’t know you could cook.” Cole mused.

“Yeah, well, I’m full of surprises.” He slid a stack of pancakes over to Cole then joined him at the table with a stack for himself and a cup of coffee.

“I live alone so I have to know how to cook.” Cole arched a brow and took a bite from his breakfast, waiting until he finished before continuing.

“Really? You don’t have a dame?” Roy shook his head, devouring his pancakes like an animal.

“Nope. I’m not into the whole ‘long term’ stuff. Bogs me down. Distracts me.” He was a lone wolf and his talent was pushing people away. That and cooking, apparently. 

“Well you should try it sometime. If you find the right person, it’s nice.” They glanced to each other for a second before Roy looked away, shaking his head.

“There ain’t nobody out there for me, trust me.” He felt that pang of loneliness again and distracted himself by shoving more food into his mouth. Cole was distracted from the serious discussion by watching Roy eat.

“Jeez, come on. Have some manners.” He sipped his coffee and continued his meal neatly. Roy snorted.

“You ain’t some broad I need to impress. Fuck manners.” An image flashed through Roy’s head for a moment – of Cole and him on a date. Roy would pull out the chair for him, pour the champagne for him and order food for him. They’d dance slowly to the jazz playing and take him home at a respectable time, earning a sweet chaste kiss on the lips. At the thought he nearly choked on his food, was his mind trying to kill him? He wasn’t no homo! He’d never even dated a man! Though, he supposed, how did he know if he wasn’t a homo if he hadn’t dated a man?

“Don’t be stupid…” He muttered to himself under his breath. Cole glanced up from his food.

“Hm?”

“Oh, nothing.” Roy reassured with a grunt. He downed his drink and stood up.

“Taking a shower.” 

 

Roy pulled back the flimsy shower curtain and stepped in, letting the hot water hit his skin as he ran his hands through his hair. Desperately trying to clean the dirty thoughts from his head, he grabbed a bar of soap and scrubbed himself raw. As he was about to get out, he hesitated for a moment before quickly rubbing one out. Although he wasn’t particularly horny, it was practically tradition to jack off in the shower at this point. It was fast and quite unsatisfying, but when he came images of him and other man flashed through his mind. Roy had to clean himself a second time just to feel decent. 

Stepping out of the shower, he wrapped a towel around his waist and went into the bedroom. Quickly drying himself off and putting on underwear, he lit a cigarette. He didn’t care if Cole complained of the smell. 

Meanwhile Cole had cleaned up the kitchen. The dishes and cups had all been washed and lay to dry on the drying rack besides the sink. He grabbed a new set of clothes to wear for the day and headed into the bathroom to get ready. He quickly shaved, managing to nick himself a few times and little droplets of blood formed, but wiped them off with a towel. Slicking his hair back with water, he brushed his teeth and got changed. His suit today consisted of a white shirt, a short waistcoat and high trousers. Learning from yesterday, he left the top few buttons undone and came out of the bathroom to greet Roy. 

“What do we need to do today?” Cole asked as he sat on the edge of the bed. Roy already had his underwear, socks and vest on and began pulling up his trousers.

“I don’t know. I don’t care.” Cole arched his brows non amusingly. 

“Ever helpful as always, Earle.” Roy just shrugged and tied his belt around his waist. Cole couldn’t help but stare; there was something enchanting about watching Roy’s dominating hands work the leather in such a way. 

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer.” Roy smirked with his cigarette in his mouth. Cole cleared his throat and looked anywhere but the man near him, suddenly becoming interested in the carpet. Roy slipped on his shirt and began buttoning them up. 

“We’re free to do anything this morning. Might be helpful to pick up some groceries as we don’t have much.” Cole nodded and glanced up just as Roy glanced to him. They kept eye contact for a moment before both averting their gaze. 

“Good idea.” He replied with a nod. Roy grabbed his cravat with a sigh and wrapped it around his neck. He thought the cravat looked good on the store model but he’d only just realised he had no idea how to tie one. He messed with it for a few moments before letting the silky fabric rest around his neck, vowing to come back to it. As he grabbed his shoes, Cole looked up at Roy’s undone cravat.

“You know that’s a cravat and not a scarf, right?” Cole mused with a smile. Roy looked at him with a sarcastic smile.

“No shit. I’ve never worn one, how am I supposed to know how to tie it?” Standing up, Phelps walked over to him and began to tie it for him, explaining how to in the process.

“It’s a lot like a tie, but at the end you just…” He rearranged it to look proper before smoothing out a few creases on Roy’s shoulders. His hands lingered there for a moment too long and Roy felt his heart beat increase. Time stopped for a moment and Roy felt that familiar feeling again – comfort. With Cole so close to him, he felt like he belonged for the first time ever. He snapped out of it though, cleared his throat, prompting Cole to remove his hands in such a quick fashion it was like he had burned himself.

“Shopping! Shopping. We need groceries. Food. Yes.” Cole coughed once and turned away from Roy sharply, pretending they didn’t just have that moment. 

“I’ll go.” Roy suggested, wanting to get out of this apartment as quick as possible. He grabbed his jacket and hastily put it on. 

“I’ll um…take a walk around the block. It’s stuffy in here.” He nodded and they both made sure to stay well away from each other, not even risking a brush against one another. Roy eventually grabbed his keys and left to buy food, leaving Cole to lock up and eventually head outside. 

The weather was nice, it was sunny but with a breeze in the air. With his hands in his pockets, he headed to the local shop to buy a newspaper an a few things for himself he knew Roy wouldn’t buy. He pushed open the door and the bell above rung, alerting the shopkeeper to him. The shopkeeper glanced up and arched a brow, before disappearing to the back rooms for a moment. Cole ignored him and began picking out bits and bobs for himself. It wasn’t much, but once he approached the counter he glanced at the back door wondering where the man had gone. The shopkeeper soon returned and greeted the man with a nod. He was an older gentleman, the shopkeeper – not elderly but not quite young either. A brown apron hung around him and he began pressing the buttons on the wooden cash register.

“Nice outfit.” Cole blushed lightly, averting his eyes.

“Uh, thanks.” 

“You work around here?” The man asked, pulling a paper bag from under the counter.

“Yeah, you could say that.” Cole replied sheepishly. The man simply arched a brow and began bagging his items for him.

“Busy job?” Cole shrugged.

“Sometimes.” The shopkeeper let out a low chuckle.

“Can’t be a fun job, not respectable either.” Cole frowned, realising the shopkeeper knew he was a male hooker – or at least, his undercover character was. He couldn’t help but feel embarrassed. 

“Hard to find work around here sometimes.” Cole answered, not really knowing how to end this conversation any faster. He placed the money on the counter but the man didn’t take it yet. 

“I’ve heard about certain…narcotic making rounds recently. It’s good money if you sell it.” Cole shoved his hands into his trousers and shrugged, making sure not to show his interest in the sudden mention of the drug. 

“I heard it’s difficult to get into the trade though.” The man simply smiled and gestured for him to follow him through the door to the back room. Cole frowned, knowing this was probably a terrible idea, but his curiosity pushed him to follow. It could be vital to solving this case, besides this man didn’t look that strong, he could easily fight him off if he had to. 

The man let him to a room filled with various boxes stacked on top of each other – mostly fruits, vegetables and other such goods. Cole took a few steps into the room before his vision suddenly went black, collapsing to the floor. 

 

Roy had soon finished his shopping and kicked the door open with his foot, not caring about Cole scolding him for leaving dirty footprints on the door. His arms were full with groceries and he waddled to the kitchen.

“Hey, Cole, get your ass in here and help me with these!” He shouted out to the empty apartment. At first, he shrugged it off but Cole wasn’t the kind of person to ignore him. Even when he was being a douchebag. With an annoyed sigh, he went into the bedroom as he assumed Cole had fallen asleep but when he saw the neat, made up bed he frowned. Checking each room, he realised Cole had said he was going for a walk. But…that was nearly an hour ago. Roy convinced himself he wasn’t worried, he didn’t even like Cole that much! Besides, Cole was an adult man and he could deal with his own situations. But still…. bloody images flashed through his mind of Cole dead in a gutter, Cole beaten to an inch of his life, Cole shot through the heart…

Roy gritted his teeth and headed back out again, convincing himself he was only going to take a look around the neighbourhood before heading back and waiting it out. Still… He hated to do this, but he felt a pit in his stomach. That feeling of ‘something is wrong!’ was gnawing at him and he didn’t know what to do. Heading to a phone, he called up the first number that came into his head.

“Hello?” The voice said.

“Bekowsky.” Roy replied sharply. 

“Oh. Roy.” Stefan’s voice went sour immediately, wondering why the fuck he was calling him. Before he could start cussing him out however, Roy spoke again.

“I think Cole’s in danger.” Bekowsky audibly swallowed on the other end of the phone line. 

“What makes you think that?” Roy sighed and ran a hand through his hair.

“It sounds fuckin’ crazy but… I have a feeling in my stomach. He said he was taking a walk but it’s been over an hour now.” Bekowsky nodded, even though Roy couldn’t see him, and already began scribbling something down on a pad of paper.

“I’ll be right there. Leave me your address.” Roy stated the address of the street he was on and began to walk down the road, mimicking where Cole would go. He saw an old store on the street with a rocking chair out front and approached it. He figured if anybody had seen Cole, the shopkeeper would have. He pushed open the door and the bell above rang out.

 

Cole woke up with a banging headache, tied to a wooden chair. His mouth was tightly gagged and his eyes were adjusting to the darkness of the room. Four men stood in the room, all of them huddled together. He noticed the shopkeeper was there with his head bent, occasionally sending glances his way. One of the other three men spoke.

“He’s awake boys.” The man who spoke was tall and square, with a shaved head and black suit on. He had tattoos adorning his neck and didn’t look particularly smart. Another man walked over and pulled off Cole's mouth gag.

“Well, well, well. If it isn’t the Golden Boy of LA.” Cole blinked in shock. “Yeah, that’s right. I’ve seen your face in the paper, Phelps.” He spat his name out like it was poison. The second man had a normal build and was quite tall, with round glasses perching on his pointed face. 

“Yeah, your ruse is up!” The first man spoke. “And you’re going to pay for letting that kid go.” That kid? Cole gasped, connecting the dots. They were the men who had threatened that boy at the bar. They must have seen them both when Roy rushed in. God, he felt so stupid! His cover was blown that easily. The third man stepped forward with a smirk on his face.

“Maybe It was fate you stopped us from taking out that kid. Now we can take you out too.” 

“I assume not for drinks.” Cole said dryly, trying to think of a way out of here. His thoughts were cut short however by the sound of the doorbell ringing out front. The third man gestured to the shopkeeper and he nodded, leaving to attend to the customer. 

 

Roy had his hand hovering near his gun and was behind a stack of magazines, but after seeing the gentle man come out behind the counter, he relaxed. He walked over to him and reached for his badge.

“Excuse me sir, but have you seen- “His sentence was stopped by a loud shout in the back room. It took him a second before he realised he knew that voice anyway. His head turned to the shopkeeper who was sweating profusely. Roy pulled out his gun and placed it behind the man’s back.

“No funny business. Take me to him.” 

 

Blood began pouring out of Cole’s nose and he already felt his eye beginning to swell. Even though he was slowly getting the crap kicked out of him, all he could think of was ‘Roy was quite tolerating of the nose punch, that hurts like a son of a bitch’. Another punch was thrown at the side of his head and all he heard was ringing. As he recoiled from the punch, he heard voices as the men chatted to one another. 

“We just gonna kill him then?” 

“No, we should see what we can get out of him.” 

“Use him as a bribe!” Cole tried without success to untie himself from the chair, wiggling as his life depended on it. He barely noticed the door open as the shopkeeper returned. However, as he heard the familiar sound of a gun click, he looked up to see an all too familiar face.

“Don’t move.” Roy said, gun in hand and pointed at the three men. 

“Hey, it’s that other guy!” The first man said, looking ready to pounce.

“Move and I shoot you through the head. How did you find us?” Roy asked, wanting to know how they knew Cole would come into this exact shop.

“Got a guy to follow you home. Had him spy on you from there. Simple shit, really.” The third man said with a devious grin. He stepped forward and Roy fired a warning shot at his feet. Strangely enough, it didn’t deter the man.

“Just put the gun down boy. This is bigger than you.” He took another step closer and Roy didn’t hesitate – he shot him in the side and he went down with a groan. The second man rushed to his side whilst the first man came to attack Roy. Roy gave him a swift uppercut and dodged a punch, running to hide behind a stack of crates. The man followed him, but was stopped short by a gun shooting him in the back. He went down too, as a new officer entered from the doorway and kicked the second man down, giving him a swift kick to the head to knock him out.

“Bekowsky!” Cole cried out, alerting him that he was there and that he needed to get out of these ties immediately. Stefan bent down and began untying them, wincing at Cole’s face.

“Look’s sore.” Cole shrugged and rubbed his wrists where the restraints had been.

“I’ve had worse. Say, how’d you know I was here?” Bekowsky gestured towards Roy who had appeared, placing the gun back in its holster.

“How are you Phelps?” Roy asked, surveying the men on the floor.

“Fine. How’d you know I was here?” Roy shrugged.

“I know you well.” Bekowsky’s face turned red as he tried not to spit out an insult, being saved as a few other police officers had come. Bekowsky had called them in case something had happened, and he was now glad he had. 

Captain Cafarelli walked in with arms crossed, a few officers following behind him.

“The hell is going on here?” Roy pulled him to the side and explained what had happened whilst an officer helped with Cole’s bloody nose. Cole explained his half of the story to Stefan which was proving to be difficult as he had something negative to say every other second. Usually about Roy. Okay, always about Roy. 

“Stefan, drop it. You may not like him but he saved me today. I’d be dead without him.” Bekowsky sighed but saw his point, helping out arrest the slightly unconscious men. The shopkeeper had surprisingly co-operated and was being taken back to the station. Cole came over to where Roy was and noticed the captain chewing him out.

“-and I just think that with the way things have presented themselves today, this needs to be dropped. Your covers were blown!” Roy sighed and glanced away for a moment, not having any clever quips to say for once. Cole interrupted.

“Sir, if you don’t mind, - “

“I certainly do mind Phelps, but carry on.”

“Look. This could have been avoided I’m sure, but we can still solve this case. We have new leads thanks to today and they were the only people who knew of our real identities. Give us a week more and we’ll have it solved with the paperwork on your desk.” The captain exhaled through his nose before shrugging. 

“Fine. But if you get yourselves killed, be it on your watch.” Taking that as their queue to leave, Roy and Cole headed out through the back door. Roy lit a cigarette and managed to get a proper look at Cole’s injuries in the sunlight. 

“Thanks for that Roy.” Roy simply shrugged and continued to focus on his cigarette.

“It’s fine. Don’t think of it.” Cole frowned. How could he just ‘not think of it’? He saved him! He had to be thankful in some way! 

“I know you’re not for sentimental tripe but I owe you. I’ll buy you some fancy booze or something.” Roy chuckled slightly.

“You sure know how to treat a man, Phelps.” Cole smiled, glad they were back to being less serious.

“What can I say? It’s part of my charm.” Roy stubbed his cigarette out on the wall next to him and began walking back to the apartment. Cole followed.

“That shirt is gonna be a bitch to clean.” Cole looked down and noticed his white shirt had a lovely red stain going down that blended with the grey of the waistcoat. 

“I better change it before tonight.”

“Tonight?” Roy quizzed.

“Yeah, we’re going to stake out the bar and the hotel next to it.” 

“You sure that’s a good idea? Your eye is swollen and your nose is just as bad. It’ll just draw attention to us. People will think I’ve been smacking you about.” Cole smiled.

“Yeah, when it’s actually the other way around.” 

“Watch it.” Roy replied, but the smirk that came afterwards reassured him he was joking. 

“Maybe you should leave it for tonight. I can just go- “

“No.” Cole replied, not budging from his answer. Roy arched his brows.

“It’s obviously not safe. Look what happened to me. And that was in the middle of the day.” Cole didn’t mention that he didn’t want Roy to leave his side either. 

“Fine. Whatever. We’ll have a night in. Go over case notes or whatever.” Cole nodded and they walked back to the apartment in silent peace.


	5. Realisations

Once they got in, Cole entered the kitchen and let out a loud sigh.

“Roy, you left all the groceries out.” He began to put some of the stuff where it belonged. “The butter’s melted!” Roy came in at his protests and leaned against the door frame.

“Oh, sorry I forgot to put away the carrots whilst I was busy saving your ass.” He replied, his tone dripping with sarcasm. 

“Just help me with it, please?” Roy helped out, though complained that he had to. Cole rooted around and found some ice cubes, wrapping them in a tea towel and placing it against his eye, a hiss coming from his teeth. 

“You want some painkillers?” Cole shook his head, sitting down at the table to relax.

“Whiskey then?” Cole looked at Roy with an unamused face, before unbuttoning his waistcoat with his free hand. The idea of having dried blood on him disgusted him so he’d rather get a new shirt on. He slipped off the waistcoat and began unbuttoning his white shirt, doing his best to avoid the drying blood stains down the middle. Roy glanced over and tutted. 

“Let me do it, you focus on your eye.” Roy swiftly unbuttoned the other mans shirt and pulled it off him, folding it and putting it on the table. Roy glanced to Cole’s chest.

“It’s on your vest too.” Cole looked down and groaned. Great. Even his vest was stained red. Roy offered to help with that too but Cole bat him away. Even if he secretly did enjoy Roy’s touches, which he didn’t! He had enough respect to take off his own damn vest.   
It ended up in the pile with his shirt and waistcoat. Cole stood and began to brew some coffee to put his mind off of his injuries. Roy couldn’t help but stare. Cole’s back was full of different scars from the war and his time as a cop. The man studied them all, wanting to run his hand down them but obviously not doing. Roy wasn’t thinking straight. He knew this because he stood up and walked behind Cole, wrapping his arms around him. Cole jumped a bit, twisting his head to see behind him.

“Roy, what are you doing?” Roy shushed him.

“Don’t question it. You’ll make it weird.” 

“Oh sure, I’m the one making it weird.” Nevertheless, Cole couldn’t deny that it felt nice. Roy was warm, and the soft fabric of his jacket rubbed against his back. Cole at this point had already made his coffee but didn’t want to move. The only sound was of calm breathing of the two men, both too afraid to move to break the moment. 

“Roy…” Cole mumbled.

“Don’t.” Roy replied, not wanting to hear whatever he was going to say.

“No. Listen. Remember when I mentioned my wife and I were… going through stuff?” Roy let out a noise that meant ‘yes’. Cole didn't know what came over him to open himself up like this. He guessed the warm embrace was comforting enough to be free.

“I don’t love her anymore. It’s complicated but…I had a friend during the war. It’s lonely there. We stayed ‘friends’ after the war. Marie found out and was pretty upset. I guess she thought. I mean…I’m not gay.” Roy let out a sad laugh.

“Me neither.” 

“But I’m not…. not either.” Cole replied. Roy didn’t know how to respond. Should he laugh at him? Poke fun at him? He wanted to. Call him a homo fag and expose him to the world. But he knew those words could just as easily be thrown back at him. Roy pulled away from Cole. Cole instinctively flinched, expecting something bad to happen. Instead, Roy pressed a chaste kiss to the corner of Cole’s lips.

“We ain’t homo’s. I know that. You know that. Hell, maybe it’s because we’re undercover as ‘em that’s why this is happening. But I don’t care.” Roy paused for a moment, placing a hand on Cole’s waist.

“I’m not going to tell anyone, if that’s what you’re worried about.” Roy laughed bitterly, looking away. “I swear I had a conversation exactly like this with Bekowsky.” Cole looked to Roy.

“He’s…?” 

“Yep. It’s pretty obvious. The way he looks at you…” Roy tightened his grip slightly, not understanding why he was acting like this. He wasn’t jealous of Bekowsky was he? Of course not! He was just some stupid Pole.   
Cole didn’t know what to say. He did however, pull Roy in for a proper kiss. It was messy, and you could hear both men wince as their bruised noses knocked against each other, but it felt right. Their bodies moulded together like they were created for each other, an eternal jigsaw piece. An arm wrapped around Roy’s neck to pull him close and Roy snaked his arms around Cole’s waist. They pulled apart for a moment and Cole frowned.

“I’m hungry.” 

“For dick?” Roy joked. Cole nudged him in the ribs and pushed himself away gently.

“For food. It’s getting late and we haven’t eaten.” Roy sucked his teeth for a moment, going over the options. 

“There’s a restaurant that overlooks that skeevy hotels the whores use. We can eat there then see if we see any suspicious movements.” Cole nodded and headed for the door before Roy stopped him.

“You should probably put a shirt on.” Cole looked down as it dawned on him his bloody shirt was on the table and he needed a new one. 

“Right.” He quickly pulled on a new shirt, buttoning it up fully this time and slipping on a blue tie with it. He followed Roy out of the door as he tied it up. They mentioned nothing that had just happened. 

 

They pulled up to the restaurant, still as silent as before. Cole glanced in one of the car’s mirrors to check he didn’t look too beaten up before getting out of the car. Roy took a deep breath and transformed himself into his undercover persona, interlocking his arm with Cole’s. 

“Let’s go, John.”

“Right, right.” They entered the restaurant and took a seat next to a large window, using the menus to hide themselves from any suspicious eyes in the place. Roy immediately picked up the drinks menu and scanned it, deliberating on what to order. Cole looked down at the food menu and decided what to have. The food didn’t look to be that high of a quality, but he was so hungry he didn’t care. A waiter soon came to their table to take their order.

“Bottle of white wine.” Roy said and closed the drinks menu. Cole glanced at him before shrugging ordering his food.

“One cheese burger with sides, please.” Roy had zoned out, staring at the hotel that sat across from them before he heard someone addressing him.

“And for you? Sir?” Roy snapped out of his daze. 

“Uh, whatever he’s having.” The waiter nodded and disappeared, soon appearing with two glasses and a bottle of wine. Roy popped off the cork and poured them the drink.

“What are we celebrating?” Cole joked, being happy to have some alcohol in his system to dull his aches.

“To us.” Roy toasted, clinking his glass against Phelps. Roy shrugged. Roy didn't speak for a second, obviously in deep thought, before he turned back to Phelps with an awkward look on his face.

“Look. I’m about to get real serious and real cheesy, and if you dare repeat this to anyone – especially Bekowsky – I’ll put a bullet in your back.” Cole nodded, barely taking him seriously, taking a sip of the unfamiliar branded wine. 

“It’s been fun working with you Cole.” 

“John.” He quickly corrected him, darting his eyes around to check if anybody had heard Roy’s slip up. Roy waved his hand in response, not caring about their covers at the moment.

“I know we ain’t ever see eye to eye, but I think we finally managed to put our differences aside for this. I’m…grateful. I’m even grateful you whacked me in the nose. Look I’m…irrational and hot headed.” Cole went to open his mouth to deny that but Roy stopped him.

“Don’t get all high and mighty on me Golden Boy, I know it’s true. I’m an ass to deal with. I have…a lot of personal problems. And I don’t deal with problems, I push ‘em away. You knocked some sense into me. Literally.” Roy practically downed his glass of wine before continuing his little speech.

“I’m a lonely guy. I live alone, work alone, go out alone. I never have partners because nobody can stand to be around me for more than five minutes. So… I congratulate you on that, John.” Cole didn’t know what to say to that. It was…sweet. And heartfelt. The opposite of Roy. Glancing around to make sure nobody saw, Cole grabbed Roy’s hand and gave it a squeeze.

“That was real nice, Will. I…I appreciate you sticking with me too. I guess no matter how dysfunctional we are, we are pretty good partners.” Roy gave a genuine smile to Cole and topped his glass of wine up, not letting go of Cole’s hand. They’d finally reached an understanding. Though who knew how long it would last?   
Their food soon came and they began to eat. The food was mediocre at best, although Cole was much too polite to complain, his facial expressions every time he took a bite were enough to crack Roy up. Roy happily complained to the waiter each time he came around - and to any other patrons who would listen. Cole kept trying to shush him, but due to the amount of white wine he had ingested, soon became a giggling mess whenever Roy had something else to say. Once they'd finished and paid for their meal, Roy suggested they book a room in the hotel and see if they could informally interview people. He was a little worried as Cole was already buzzed from the alcohol but figured once they had to do real detective work he'd sober up.   
Cole had to hang onto Roy's arm as they left the restaurant, the nearly empty bottle of wine in Cole's left hand. After all, he didn't want the rest of it to go to waste. Roy asked him, "Is that really a smart idea?" But Cole just hushed him and pulled him out of the restaurant. They surprisingly managed to cross the busy street in one piece before making it to the entrance of the lobby. Roy lit a cigarette and walked up to the front desk. 

"One room please." The elderly woman behind the desk looked like she'd seen it all. She didn't care that two men, one very drunk, were booking a room for the night. She'd probably seen much worse.

"One bed?" Her raspy voice asked. Roy hesitated for a second. He knew Cole wasn't bothered about sharing a bed with him, but he wondered if it was a good idea with what had happened today. He 'argued' to himself that two beds would be more expensive so he settled for the one. He paid the money upfront in cash and had to drag Cole upstairs to the room. The stairs were a hassle to get him up and he already regretted buying that bottle.

"How can one man become so drunk off of white whine?" Roy mumbled, mostly to himself. Cole snickered and handed the bottle to Roy, who downed the last of it so the other man couldn't have any more.

"How can one man be so damn attractive?" Cole murmured in response. Roy arched an amused brow.

"You horny there, Renard?" Cole laughed, swaying a little as Roy let go of him to unlock the door.

"Wouldn't you like to know." He flicked Roy's nose lightly and wobbled into the room, falling down on the bed.

"Time to sleep." Roy closed the door and threw the bottle into an empty bin.

"Nope, time to work. As much as I'd love to watch you ramble drunkenly for the rest of the night, we gotta interview these weird sons of bitches." Cole groaned and reached out for Roy's hand, pulling him down onto the bed. 

"Fuck me Roy." Roy choked on his own spit, staring at Cole bewilderingly. 

"Did I just hear you correctly Phelps?" He didn't know whether to laugh or to pinch himself.

"Do it." Cole shuffled closer to Roy, looking him in the eye. They both lay on their sides on the bed, sharing a single pillow. Roy felt his cheeks blush. God, why was he acting like some kind of dumb broad?

"Cole. You're drunk. I don't think you know what you're saying." Cole's eyes remained staring at Roy's lips, an animalistic urge in them.

"I may be slightly drunk. That much is true. But... I only say what can't be said when sober." Roy let out a gentle laugh, not being able to help his hand reaching up to trace Cole's cheekbone.

"Even when 'slightly drunk', you still speak like a dork." Cole didn't reply and they remained quiet for a moment before Roy leaned in, kissing him on the lips. It was short, but it was a test to see how far this would truly go. Cole wrapped an arm around Roy's neck and pulled him close, their second kiss seeming desperate. They were both lonely men, crying out in the darkness for attention. Usually their cries met with deaf ears, but tonight, perhaps they could be less lonely.   
For the second time that day Cole took off his shirt. Roy snaked his hands down his body and in response was met with a quiet groan. Cole tugged at Roy's outfit and he began de-layering, soon sitting up with his chest exposed underneath an unbuttoned shirt. Cole sat up and climbed on Roy's lap, straddling him. Roy could suddenly feel the heat between them - especially underneath their pants. Cole began kissing Roy's neck, leaving little hickies as he went. He wanted to mark Roy, tell the world that right now, Roy was his, no one else's. Roy retaliated by running hands through Cole's hair, messing it up. Cole's mouth found his way back up to Roy's as his hands fumbled with Roy's belt. Although they wanted to constantly touch each other - they paused as Cole climbed off Roy. As they'd paused, Roy took the time to address Cole.

"You can back out of this at any time. I ain't gonna force you." Cole shook his head, unzipping Roy's pants.

"I want this." He said sincerely, staring up at Roy with big eyes. For a moment he seemed lost, scared and alone. A look that Roy was all too familiar with whenever he looked in the mirror. they soon continued and Roy's pants came off, hitting the floor with a thud. They were soon followed by Cole's. They both sat on the bed, waiting for the other person to take the step of taking off their underwear. Cole had sobered up at this point. He knew what he was getting himself into - but he didn't care. He wanted this, no, needed this. Cole crawled towards Roy and gave him a gentle kiss, slipping a hand into his underwear to awake the semi hard on that lay there. Roy let out a moan at the delicate touches. Cole wanted to hear more of those moans. He pulled Roy's underwear down just enough so he could jerk him properly, taking it super slow and keeping it in rhythm with his slow and soft kisses. Roy was conflicted; he wanted to be rough and aggressive, as he always was with the dames, but he also wanted to be soft. He didn't want to hurt Phelps, he wanted it to be only pleasure. Roy reached up and pulled down Cole's underwear so they were both naked. There was electric buzzing in the air, they felt alive. Something had awoken in both of them that had never been there before. 

"Cole, I-..." Cole stopped him with a kiss.

"Don't make this weird." Roy didn't have time to process that he'd used his words before Cole disappeared and suddenly there was a warmness on his crotch.

"O-Oh my God." Roy muttered out, eyes shutting as Cole slipped his mouth over the tip of Roy's cock. He was an amateur, obviously, and Roy knew he'd been with plenty of girls who were better in this department, but just knowing that it was Cole, his Cole Phelps, The Golden Boy of Los Angeles, doing this to him, made it all the more seductive. Cole began to take more of Roy in his mouth and Roy had to stop himself from instinctively thrusting into Cole's throat. He didn't want to hurt him. Roy grasped the headboard as Cole continued, thrusting slightly and hearing a small gag come from Cole. 

"Shit, sorry." Roy muttered, feeling bad. Cole's head reappered for a moment to utter a few words.

"Face fuck me." It didn't take any more convincing for Roy to buck forward as Cole's mouth came back down on his dick. Roy placed a steady hand on the back of Cole's head, the other grabbing Cole's hand. 

"Squeeze my hand if you want me to stop." Roy stated before Cole let out a hum, beginning to suck him off again. Roy began moving his hips upwards and small gags and moans came from Cole. It was erotic - Roy couldn't believe this was happening. He barely lasted a few more minutes before murmuring, 

"I'm gonna come..." Cole deepthroated him as much as he could before Roy let out a loud grunt, seed spilling into Cole's throat. He pulled away and swallowed as much of it as possible before sitting up. Roy couldn't help but stare at him with a dazed look.

"You're pretty good for an amateur..." Cole was sheepish at the praise, his hard cock still between his legs.

"Gotta say, that still tasted better than the restaurant food." Roy smirked and pushed Cole down, leaning above him and kissing him deeply. He wrapped a hand around his dick and began jerking him off. Cole broke the kiss for a moment, whining.

"Fuck me." Roy shook his head, giving him another rough kiss before continuing.

"Not here. No lube. Don't wanna hurt you." Cole didn't care about the pain but understood. He also knew Roy didn't want to do that whilst Cole was still drunk. He bucked his hips up to Roy's touches as Roy's tongue swirled around his nipples. Cole writhed and squirmed underneath him, barely muttering out sentences as he moaning.

"Hh, Roy..." He groaned and soon came over his stomach, calling out loudly. They kisses a few more times, although now gentle and sweet, before lying on the bed together. Roy used an empty pillowcase to clean Cole up.

"We should really interview people." Roy said. Cole sighed.

"Probably."


	6. New Leads

Roy had gotten dressed and headed to the front desk to get as much information from the staff as possible. Apart from the few men they apprehended before, they didn't have too much to go on. As far as they could tell from the officers interviewing them, they answered to a boss but wouldn't say who. Even threats and punches didn't pursuade from tattling. Cole sat up in bed and pulled on his underwear, running a hand through his hair to straighten it again. As he searched for wherever he'd flung his belt, the phone rang. Picking it up, he smiled at the voice.

"Cole! Guess what?" 

"What, Stefan?" 

"We managed to get a lead outta them." Cole grinned and picked up his belt in one hand, slugging on his trousers. 

"I'm glad. How'd you manage that?" Bekowsky leaned back in his chair, feeling smug about it. 

"Turns out on of them had kids. All it took was a friendly threat about one of his daughters for him to spill. Turns out they report to a 'Robert Eakley', guessin' he's the top man." Cole slipped on his belt and fastened it whilst balancing the phone between his ear and shoulder.

"You're a real gem, Bekowsky. I'll go let Roy know." Stefan scowled at the name and let out an irritated sigh.

"Yeah, yeah. Say...How're feeling? Your face any better?" Cole smiled at his coworker's care about his health.

"Much better. I'm sure glad you turned up when you did or else I might not be here." Stefan didn't want to think about that.

"Well, I did and you are here. Be grateful. Leary says he's impressed with your progress too. No matter what you do, you're always getting praised." He teased with a chuckle. Cole couldn't help but smile bashfully through the phone. 

"Yeah... Jeez, look at the time. I should probably go. We've got to interview some people in this hotel, but we'll check out that lead next. See you, Stefan."

"Bye." He put the phone back on its stand and finished getting dressed. As he was heading out the door, Roy came and they bumped against each other. Roy smirked and handed Cole a handwritten list.

"This is all I could get out of that old bitch at reception. 'Cause it's a sleezy hotel, I doubt any of these names are real. Still, it's the only thing we can do at the moment." Cole skimmed through the list, rolling his eyes at some of the fake names people used. At the bottom - his and Roy's alliases. 

"Oh actually, Bekowsky managed to get us a lead." Roy arched a brow.

"That dumb Pole actually managed to do something good? I'm impressed." Cole sighed and gave Roy the list back, putting on his shoes and tying small loops.

"Apparently those men report to Robert Eakley. My best bet is that he's in charge of all the drugs going on."

"And the murders too."

"Right." Cole agreed, standing up and opening the door. He began planning what to do in his mind. Although there were many things he wasn't good at, it seemed that detective work was one thing he was blessed with. They started with the door opposite from theirs and knocked swiftly. A middle aged woman opened the door with a cigarette balanced between her lips.

"What'dya want?" She spat out, blowing smoke in their faces. Roy and Cole had previously discussed whether they should stay undercover for this, and for the time being they decided they should as Roy argued that 'these junkies would rather listen to some cock-sucking whore than the actual police force'. 

"Hello. Me and my partner here were wondering if you knew of anyone supplying any heroin." Roy audibly groaned and pushed Cole out of the way. 

"Sorry, what my boytoy here's tryna say is, can you hook us up with the good stuff? We're new around here and..." He trailed off as the woman eye-balled him. She seemed understandably hesitant with Cole but relaxed slightly around Roy. Phelps had to admit that he had a smooth tone that could carry you places.

"Look. I don't do none of that myself. But go to the man downstairs, room 208. He's got connections." She winked at Roy before slamming the door. Roy grinned to Cole and slipped his arm through his as they headed to the stairs.

"You're /such/ a narc, Cole." Cole laughed nervously, shrugging and speaking in a hushed voice.

"I'm not good at this stuff! I'm good at the paperwork." Roy snickered as they head to the room below, knocking swiftly. There was a kerfuffle behind the door before a very young woman answered, only her eye visible through the crack in the door.

"Who is it?" She whispered. Roy replied,

"We were sent here by a lady upstairs. We're here to buy some...substances." The girl disappeared and there was more whispering behind the door before it opened ajar. A deep voice was heard.

"Enter." The two men entered and glanced around. The room looked exact to theirs, however the light was dim and it was difficult to make out what they were looking at. A smart, Italian looking man sat in an armchair in the middle of the room. The girl went off into the kitchen.

"Welcome men. I'm Mr. Eakley. How may I help you lovely fellows?" Roy clutched Cole's arm slightly and gritted his teeth. This man was slimy and seemed to be the person they were looking for.

"Robert?" Cole asked. The man laughed and shook his head. 

"God no! That's my father. He's not in business anymore, bless his heart. Retired this year, didn't seem too happy about it though. But..." He shrugged. 

"It was time for a new face to take over." Cole made a mental note of everything he was saying and glanced around the room non conspicuously. Nothing seemed to be out of the ordinary but he wished he wasn't undercover so he could truly inspect this place. 

"What a shame. You sell heroin?" Roy asked to keep the conversation going and making sure Cole didn't say anything stupid.

"Well, if you want to put it that bluntly, yes. Why? You interested in buying?" Roy smirked.

"Perhaps." The man gestured for them to sit down on the sofa that faced him. Roy sat down and pulled Cole with him so they were sitting thigh to thigh. 

"Eileen!" The man barked out and the girl popped her head through the door. She was bonny, but barely looked old enough to be out of school. She had curly ginger hair that curled underneath her chin and large glasses perched on her chubby face.

"Yes James?" 

"Get these two men a drink. Scotch, whiskey, whatever. Anyway." He turned his attention back to them.

"You two seem interested in being business partners, correct?" Cole nodded.

"Yes, sir." The man, James, let out a barking laugh.

"Please, please, call me James. Everyone else does." Roy, uninterested in becoming a heroin peddler, turned the conversation back to what they were talking about before.

"So I'm guessing you inherited this business from your father?" He inquired.

"Tsk, tsk. Aren't you nosy?" Roy grinned and leaned back, placing his arms behind his head.

"I think I deserve to know if we're potential buyers." Eileen brought their drinks out and smiled to the two men before perching on the armchair with James.

"You're a hoot! What did you say your names were, fellas?" Cole piped up.

"We didn't. I'm John and this is Will. Pleasure to meet you." James picked up and took a sip of his drink, prompting Cole to do the same.

"Anyway...yeah, I inherited it from my old man. He ain't been taking retirement well. But eh, he's always been grumpy! Tell you what though, I don't know what he's been doing recently but he seems up to something. Always got his little...henchmen around him." Cole was slowly putting the pieces together in his mind, furrowing his brows as Roy continued to listen.

"I tell him, 'pops you're 87! No one's gonna kill you!' but he's adamant they're always with him. Apparently they got busted by the cops for attempted kidnapping though. Not sure what that's all about." Roy glanced at Cole and offered him a smile which read more like 'keep your cool'. Cole finished his drink to keep himself silent. Roy finished his drink in one go and slapped his thigh.

"Look at the time! We should get going. But I am definitely interested in this proposition, James. Keep me posted, next time you got a shipment, I'm your man." Roy scribbled down a fake number on a piece of paper and passed it to Eileen before standing up with Cole.

"Brilliant! Goodnight men!" Eileen let them out of the door and gave them another small smile, though not saying a word to them both. They were both down the corridor before Roy spoke.

"She seemed a little young." Cole turned to him.

"I was thinking that! She barely looked 16. If we can't book him on drug charges, kid fucking is frowned upon too." Roy laughed and they headed back to their room. As soon as they were back in the comfort of the hotel room Cole began furiously scribbling notes in his iconic little black notebook. He didn't even notice Roy slide a hand down his back.

"Brainstorming?" He asked, glancing over his notes.

"It just doesn't make sense." Cole began pacing through the room in his own little dream world, monologuing.

"Robert was making six digit figures with this business, why would he retire from it? And James mentioned that Robert was hesitant about retiring...Could he have been forced? But by who? Would his own son do that? But that wouldn't explain the bodyguards...Unless...Yes!" Cole slammed his book on the table and grinned, slapping Roy on the back.

"It's so simple Roy." Roy simply blinked in confusion.

"It is?"

"Yes! Robert was forced to retire by his son and kept his bodyguards around for protection as he thought his son would kill him for the money. Once Robert realised he was losing money to his son, he set up his own heroin business. James doesn't sell to seedy people unless he needs to, so Robert focused on that particular group - gays, prostitutes, the likes. Then of course people start dying because of heroin overdoses. That kid at the bar said these men like to 'send a message to people who don't comply'. Maybe Robert was sending a message to James that he's not going down without a fight?" As Cole finished, Roy just stared at him with awe and confusion. How did he get all of that from the bits and pieces they had? He gave Cole a small kiss on the lips.

"That's great. But we need a confession from both of the men. But it's getting late now. I'm going to sleep. C'mon." Cole felt that he couldn't sleep - there was so much more investigating to do! But he knew he couldn't get anything done without the confessions and due to the time of the night. They both got ready for bed and fell asleep peacefully, feeling content that they were one step closer to closing the case. But Roy felt the pang of loneliness...one step closer to the end of this case meant one step closer to losing Cole. It would never be the same once they confront Donnelly with their findings. It would go back to normal. It was for the best, really, but it didn't mean it wouldn't still hurt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a bad chapter. It's the worst I've written. I know the plot doesn't make sense but I want to actually finish this. I'll touch it up later? Oops


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